


Teach Me How to Say Goodbye

by Altun_Heiral



Series: Vermillion Fire [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 2.0 - 5.0 spoilers, F/F, Gen, all tagged for future chapters, same of the warnings as it's set for future chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29964525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altun_Heiral/pseuds/Altun_Heiral
Summary: Altun has spent her whole life learning how to say goodbye.
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: Vermillion Fire [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184399
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	1. Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is one part me venting stuff that i'm still coping with into a fic series and the other part of me just exploring Altun's inability to be able to make proper goodbyes.

Altun didn’t cry during her parent’s funeral rites and perhaps that was simply because she had cried all that she felt she could. Her short burgundy hair rustling gently in the wind. She was upset still, but she couldn’t find any more tears to cry over something she couldn’t change. She was too young to have to learn how to say goodbye. She always thought these lessons were for people older than she, wiser, people who had lived long enough to know why people die or why people kill other people. Altun didn’t understand. Didn’t understand the motive behind the murder of her parents and the attempted murder on herself. She felt too young to understand and grapple with the fact she was separated from her actual family, having next to no idea where they would have gone. Altun had no idea how long she had been laying on the ground bleeding, going in and out of consciousness. 

Now she was expected to teach herself how to say goodbye to her own parents. She was grateful the Kahkol’s had saved her life, she wasn’t debating that. She wasn’t ungrateful to Mide for dressing her wounds, treating her as though she was her own child. She just didn’t understand how she was to accept this new life and throw away the one she had before. Altun knew no one was asking her to forget her parents or her family before the Kahkol’s. She knew they didn’t mean for any of that, yet Altun felt like she had to forget memories and voices, bury them in the same grave as her parent’s bodies in order to be able to teach herself what goodbye means. She was barely old enough to start hunting or shooting a bow yet she had to know already what goodbye meant and the permanence of it.

She wanted to feel angry at the situation. But how can a girl who had only seen eleven namedays find it in her heart to be angry? She couldn’t even try to be angry. She wasn’t angry at Mide or the others. She was angry at the people who hurt her parents of course, but not at those who saved her. No one was pushing her to move on, to get over her parents death in one night. None of them wanted that for her, they wanted her to move on in her own time. Yet Altun could only stand where they buried her parents, feeling like they buried her memories of them along with those bodies. Death didn’t wipe away memories and she knew that deep down, but couldn’t put a finger on why it felt the opposite. Perhaps the permanence of the situation was simply starting to wrap itself around her finally.

It was several days in a row she sat at the foot of her parents graves, still trying to find words for a proper goodbye, or even the tears to cry that she felt she’d run out of by this point. All her clothing was replaced by the Kahkols, and she was grateful. They could have left her there to die, yet they chose not to and instead chose to take her in. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t just say ‘goodbye’. Why the words refused to slip off her tongue, as though saying and admitting it made it real. Maybe she wanted to keep it inside for as long as possible, hoping maybe it was a bad dream, that she’d wake up at her parents side again. She had to laugh at her stupid thought. It wasn’t a dream and she knew it wasn’t. The scars on her body were much too real, too tangible. This was real. And this was her goodbye.

Altun eventually came around, and stopped spending all day at her parents graves. She didn’t have words for a goodbye yet, she still hadn’t found any. Maybe in time she would find the right words. She started talking to other members of the tribe, trying to find a way to put a smile on her face. She was bad at it most days, smiling hurt and the pain felt like a death grip on her heart. Mide was kind and understanding, an orphan like Altun, though much older than Altun. She had decided to be the one to look after Altun and help her readjust to life. Mide tended to the physical wounds left behind by those people who were so ruthless and willing to kill her for nothing other than because it was what they felt like doing.

Altun still went to her parents graves in the evenings before she would turn in to sleep. She still hadn’t found words that felt like a proper goodbye. Even though just ‘goodbye’ would have sufficed. The more she tried to open her mouth to say those words, the more they got caught in her throat. Event though she was coming around, helping the other members of the tribe, watching the younger children for the adults when they were busy, she still couldn’t find a way to say a simple goodbye. She was told they were different for everyone, that only she could find a way that meant something to her and brought her the closure she needed. It had been nearly a year and she still lacked words or the tears to cry. In the end even with this new family, she felt alone.

She was still visiting her parents graves at night two years after she was found nearly dead by the Kahkols. There were still no words she found that could be worthy of goodbye. She was starting to accept that maybe this was a goodbye she couldn’t do, one she would never be good at. She didn’t know if she could dig those memories up again, put them back into her mind and heart. She found herself crying for the first time since her parents death, realizing that she no longer could remember their voices as clearly as she used to. She could hear pieces, sometimes a laugh in the distance, but never whole sentences, only words. She was already forgetting them, memories slowly fading from her mind. There were songs her mother sang, but only tunes. She could no longer remember the words or the sound of her mothers voice when she sang her to sleep.

Altun was born Ejinn but was Ejinn no more. That was buried along with her parents bodies, buried with the sound of their voices and their memories. This wasn’t a goodbye she could make, too young to understand how to fully comprehend a goodbye and what it meant. All she could do was try to keep her parents in her heart, try to cling to the pieces of their voices she remembered and the songs her mother used to sing. She knew somewhere inside of her though that eventually it all would fade, she’d lose the memories of their faces fully as well as their voices. Perhaps that was the nature of saying goodbye, losing those things. If she could cling to the memories then perhaps forgetting their faces and their voices would hurt less. If Altun could remember the songs her mother sang to her at night, even if only the tune, then maybe it would hurt less to not be able to formulate this goodbye of hers.

Eventually, she stopped spending her evenings at her parents graves, as she grew older, realizing she couldn’t say goodbye, not fully at least. She accepted that ‘goodbye’ was not good enough even if it felt like it could be. Altun accepted that memories were all she had now, and that was her comfort. She had the scars of that day as a reminder that she lived and her parents had not. A reminder that they had said their goodbyes to each other, and most likely said goodbye to Altun in their hearts. Maybe none of them were able to say goodbye in a way that helped them reach that closure, to reach that place where pain would no longer hurt. Her goodbye was less a goodbye anymore, and a promise to try to live the rest of her life like her parents would have wanted her to. No matter how much that doom rolled around in her chest as she got older, telling her it would be easier to die, she made the effort to live. Even if it hurt. Even if she never found a way to say goodbye and find the peace she longed for.


	2. Caalun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altun struggles to put a goodbye to the name of her first love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually quite enjoy writing about Altun and Caalun. i had Altun's first love be a orphan from the tribe known as the songbirds of the steppe, and that's mildly where Altun's later love of singing came from. it was something she learned to love partly from her mother and partly from her time with Caalun. something she then shared with Reina later on when she would sing for her.

Altun had no words again for the feelings in her heart. In fact, this felt similar to when her parents died, with the exception of having feeling for this person who was suddenly just gone. How do you go searching for someone who goes missing and find no trace? They couldn’t even find her body. Altun wanted to scream again. She wouldn’t, or perhaps it was more that she couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to scream, she knew no sound would come out. This felt unfair, even if it wasn’t. First her parents and now here she was trying to say goodbye again. Least with her parents, their bodies were there, there was something tangible to try to say goodbye to. This time there was nothing. She could feel a knot forming in her chest as she leaned against the side of the one of the yurts. First her parents, and now Caalun was gone too. Altun laughed bitterly. Maybe she was cursed as such that people she loved were destined to die.

Members of the tribe tried to comfort her, but she shook them off, going about her duties helping the elders and watching the younger children. She shook off any attempt to comfort her. Mide had told them to just give Altun time, that she would come around on her own as she had after her parents died. That doom was rolling around her chest again, squeezing her heart and attempting to get her to let go. She scolded herself for allowing that feeling to return. It was though it was some sort of demon that lingered, filled her with guilt for being the one still alive, attempting to drag her down till she gave in. Some days were harder to not listen to that voice. That voice that now mingled with her guilt over her parents and Caalun.

Caalun’s disappearance wasn’t her fault, not even close truly. Yet, after what had happened to her parents it felt like it was her fault. Some great deity up above had decided anyone tied to her had to die. A cruel thought, and one that surely didn’t make goodbyes easier. There were nights where she screamed and cried to Mide. Yelling about how unfair it was, how it felt like a farce they couldn’t find her body. Mide didn’t know how to comfort Altun, instead just letting her get her feelings out, letting her scream about how it made her angry. Then cry about how much it hurt. She ran out of tears when her parents died. With Caalun, it seemed she only had tears. She built herself back up to some sort of semblance of happiness, fell in love with Caalun, then fell apart again with the acceptance she would never come back. Altun accepted Caalun was gone, that much was true. She accepted what was truth, but refused to put a goodbye to that truth, just like she did with her parents.

Although she went about her normal days, laughing with the children she watched while their parents were out hunting or otherwise, Mide began to notice how fake that laugh was. She’d put on a smile in front of the children who were too young to understand what she had to learn at their age. She didn’t want them worrying about why she stopped smiling. And so Altun wore a mask, still screaming inside herself about the meaning of goodbye. The permanence of something like that word, like the action of saying goodbye. The younger children didn’t need to know she was tearing her own heart apart. So she laughed as though nothing hurt her, helped the elders like she normally did. Then at night she would punish herself further for something that was never her fault to begin with.

Mide didn’t understand how Altun took to blaming herself for what happened to Caalun, all Altun said was that perhaps she was cursed by some god somewhere. Though she had said it rather bitterly. Even though bitterness laced her words, Mide noticed there was always tears in Altun’s eyes. Even through the bitterness, Altun was just masking her pain in the end. She didn’t know how else to cope anymore. She thought she had learned after her parents died, but she also most likely had not assumed she’d suffer this again so soon. She was barely sixteen, barely old enough to start thinking about either staying with the tribe or leaving if she so chose. She hadn’t been alive long enough to have to go through this twice. Altun was always on the verge of tears most days, and it was that way for quite some time after Caalun disappeared. She may have hid it well from the younger members of the tribe, but everyone else knew. They knew she wasn’t coping nearly as well as she made herself out to be.

Eventually she stopped crying, but the mild bitterness lingered. The bitterness that came with losing someone you love over and over again. Some nights she was off on her own, staring into the sunset with a blank stare, though no matter how blank it was, she still somehow always seemed on the verge of crying again. Altun started thinking about leaving when she was old enough. Not for the fact that she was ungrateful for all that the Kahkols had done, that wasn’t the reason. Even though they took her in, gave her a home, raised her in the absence of her parents, she never felt like she belonged. This tribe and the steppe were home yes, but perhaps not the only home she was meant to have, or the one she truly belonged in. She thought maybe if she left too death wouldn’t follow her, that people she loved would be safe. She couldn’t blame herself for Caalun’s death forever, but gods knew she would try to.

Altun went about her days, caring for the younger children, showing them the sewing projects she had picked up, or the detailing she was doing on some of her own clothing. She pretended to laugh when it still hurt, keeping her mouth shut when the bitterness crept back up in her throat. She pushed down those thoughts that swirled around her head, telling her that her own death was a good answer. She would eat her meals with Mide at night like normal, they would talk and Altun would force her laughs. Mide was smart, very perceptive, she knew Altun was still hurting, but made no attempt to for her to speak on things if they still hurt too much. Mide was never a replacement for her own mother, but Altun was still grateful for all Mide had done for her since they saved her. Altun treated her life as normal up until the day she was supposed to leave the steppe.

Even to the day she left, somewhere in her, she still felt responsible for what had happened to Caalun. It wasn’t her fault and it never was and yet, she was here two years later, tearing herself apart still. She still felt like she was cursed. Caalun’s goodbye was permenant. It was as set in stone as her parents graves. She visited them one last time before she left, still finding no goodbye to say. There wasn’t even a goodbye for Caalun, there was nothing to say goodbye to. They never found Caalun’s body, perhaps she had just gotten lost. If she didn’t say goodbye to Caalun, then maybe one day, when she returned to visit Mide and the others, that she would come home and find Caalun. Even if she learned to love someone else in that time away, she could at least return to Caalun as a friend. If she just didn’t give a goodbye, then there could at least be hopeful she was still alive. Even if her heart knew differently, even if it knew that she would never come back home. Believing she was perhaps, somehow, still alive somewhere, was much easier than saying goodbye.


	3. Haurchefant and Ysayle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altun ponders if she fears the meaning of the word goodbye following both Haurchefant and Ysayle's deaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i sure can't wait till i have to start writing about Altun and my old friends character again. That was a goodbye that was said only on one side and boy was it hollow.

She was fond of Haurchefant, perhaps not nearly as fond of him as he was of her, but he was still a good friend. A smile better suits a hero is what he had told her. Altun had to laugh bitterly at that one. As if she’d not spent this entire time hiding behind her smiles and her laughter. She learned early on to do as such. She supposed a hero should know when it was okay to show emotions such as that of sorrow or grief. But in all the goodbyes she never properly gave, did she even know how to show those emotions properly or at the right time? Sure, Altun got to say goodbye. If you could call it that. She didn’t say the words, she never has, not to anyone. She simply knelt next to him, holding back tears she didn’t even know if she knew still how to cry.

It wasn’t this way when Moenbryda sacrificed herself. Perhaps it was cause she wasn’t as close to her as the others had been, in fact she felt almost a stranger in the group at that point. She was sad of course, but she didn’t feel right giving a goodbye that would feel hollow since they weren’t close and hadn’t known each other long. Haurchefant she had known for quite sometime now. This time she refused a farewell purely out of her own rage at the situation. She wasn’t angry person, but this made her blood boil. Yet, Altun felt helpless to the situation. What kind of Warrior of Light could she even begin to be if she couldn’t bring justice to this alone. She couldn’t help but cry after the fact, burning hot tears that stained her cheeks. There was no point in screaming this time. Just like her parents and Caalun, it wouldn’t change a damn thing. Yet, she let herself scream.

Altun did visit his grave, not as often as she most likely should have. But the pain was always there. Someone else dying for her. Sure, Caalun didn’t die for her, but her parents sure as hells did, and it’s not like that wasn’t always lingering in her mind. It was always there to taunt her, her little constant reminder. The reminder that people have died so that she could live. Altun had to wonder if her life was really worth all that much, there were plenty other Warriors of Light, couldn’t they just kill her, let her die and people wouldn’t die for her any longer. She knew it wasn’t that simple, nothing ever was. But the bitterness of losing friends over and over, time and time again was starting to weight down on her. Was she actually some walking curse? Every part of her was bitter at the constant pain. Her new friends were there though. And there was Reina.

She didn’t talk to Reina about how she felt about Haurchefant dying. She didn’t bring up Ysayle either. The fleeting affection she held for the Lady of Ice. Her sacrifice probably hurt more than Haurchefant’s had. Simply because there was fleeting feelings there for a short time. While they hadn’t much completely saw eye to eye, she had to admire Ysayle and her passion. And once more she went off and sacrificed herself in the name of helping Altun. She wanted to be furious, she wanted to so angry. And she was, but only for a moment before the pain set in. Once the pain set in again, it was like a burning sensation through her veins. That stinging pain of not getting to say goodbye. Did it matter anymore? She never said those words anyway.

There was one body to bury and one that dissolved into a stunning blue aether. You can’t say goodbye to particles, though Altun supposed she could, but she knew in her heart that even after all these years, she was no good at goodbyes. Thus her fleeting feelings faded along with Ysayle's body. She couldn’t formulate words before any of this, and the more death she saw the less words she could find to put to situations. No matter how hard she tired, how hard she searched there wasn’t anything she could say.

She had her memories still, but would they fade in time like the memories of her parents and Caalun? Altun knew memories got fuzzy over time, faded away like dust caught by the wind. One day she wouldn’t remember their voices, and most likely not their faces either. She tried desperately to cling to memories she remembered, perhaps that would make their faces and voices stick in her mind more. Even as time went on, everything had to fade at some point. Even memories of people who were still alive would fade. Even though she could hear Mide’s words of comfort in her head, the words she spoke assuring her she wasn’t some walking curse, Altun couldn’t help but wonder if this confirmed she was. Or perhaps the curse was being a Warrior of Light.

She couldn’t put the words to the situation, nor find comfort in knowing their souls were most likely at peace with the choices they had both made. She wondered if her parent’s had felt the same. Their choice to try to protect Altun and losing their lives for it. It wasn’t even a bitter pang in her heart, but one that was more hollow feeling. She wondered if she would just become accustomed to the death and the pain, that goodbyes would never be said and she’d never cry another tear. Even though she knew she was much too emotional to ever stop fulling crying at some situations. However, this seemed like one she would just become numb to. After Ysayle, she simply wanted to shut off her emotions, to feel nothing.

Altun couldn’t cut off her emotions, she couldn’t even if she wanted it to be that way. And when she saw those corporeal forms of Haurchefant and Ysayle again, the emotions came back. The stabbing pain and the longing for people to stop dying for her. Maybe she could have said her goodbyes then, but it’s not like they could have heard. She’d never know now that it was long passed. Altun knew in her heart she didn’t know how to say those words. It felt she was starting to fear the word goodbye now, because it felt so permanent. She was starting to fear the meaning behind a word that was used even in common passing between friends at the end of a long day together. It was something that was said as someone waved to her after meeting up to grab something to eat together. Was she really starting to fear the meaning of a word?

Goodbye had many meanings and now even as she was turning twenty, she realized she still had not concrete idea how to part ways with someone who had died. She had not concrete way to keep memories alive properly, to remember voices or faces. Altun was twenty and in nine years she still hadn’t learned how to say goodbye. She never learned to cope with the passing of another person, maybe because the pain felt so familiar, so fresh all the time. It felt like it was daily, the stabbing pain and the realization that she once again was losing someone she either loved or called friend. Maybe she wasn’t cursed, but even if she was, this seemed too cruel for anyone to deal with. Learning daily that you will have to say goodbye to someone you care for.


End file.
